Midnight Sons Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  “For a walk.” He hoped the brevity of his response would give Scott the hint.

  “Someone’s playing cowboys and Indians,” Scott said conversationally.

  “Really?”

  “Yup, they’re sending signals.” Scott stopped, hands on his hips. “They’re not doing it right, though. Look.” He pointed toward the cabins where Mariah lived. “See all that smoke?”

  “Smoke?”

  Christian whirled around, and sure enough, a trail of dark smoke spiraled upward. His heart kicked into gear. “Those aren’t smoke signals,” he shouted. “That’s a fire!”

  Chapter

  6

  FIRE. MARIAH’S HEART hammered against her rib cage as she fought her overwhelming panic.

  At first she tried to battle down the flames, but her puny efforts only seemed to make matters worse. The blaze came out from the pipes that led from her stove and licked ravenously at the old wood.

  Soon the room was engulfed in smoke. Mariah choked and coughed, struggling to breathe. Grabbing what clothes she could, she staggered outside.

  Air. Beautiful clean air filled her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath and immediately had a coughing fit. With no time to spare, she dragged in another lungful, then hurried back into the burning cabin for her purse.

  Blinded by the smoke, she fumbled about helplessly, seeking her important papers, plus the most precious item she owned, the little jade bear. She could not lose that to the fire. All at once her mind wouldn’t function properly. Where, oh where, had she left her purse? And the bear—wasn’t it on her nightstand?

  “Mariah!”

  Someone yelled her name, but it sounded as if it had come from a great distance. She felt herself weakening, needing desperately to breathe. The smoke dulled her senses, but she refused to give up, refused to leave until she’d found the jade bear and her purse.

  “Mariah!” Whoever sought her was much closer now. Her name came to her, sounding frantic and fearful.

  “Here.” How pitifully weak she felt. Not until she saw a pair of men’s shoes did she realize she was on the floor.

  Strong arms scooped her up and carried her out the door.

  Air again. Beautiful, clean air.

  She breathed in deeply, coughed again and staggered back toward the house.

  “Mariah, are you crazy?” Christian stopped her by circling his arms about her waist. “You can’t go back.”

  “But—”

  “Nothing in there is worth dying for, damn it!”

  He didn’t understand what she was after, so she fought him, using every ounce of strength she possessed. She tugged and pulled but made no headway against his superior strength.

  “Mariah,” he said, turning her around. “Stop!” His fingers dug unmercifully into her shoulders. The fire hissed and spit, the heat so fierce it was suffocating.

  “My purse, the bear…”

  “Bear? What bear?”

  In the distance Mariah heard the fire siren, piercing the evening with its urgency, screaming tragedy to the entire town.

  “My purse and your gift—I need them.” She’d lost everything, but her mind focused on the two things she valued most. She was thinking less and less clearly. So little made sense.

  “You mean to tell me you risked your fool neck over your purse?” Christian shouted.

  She jerked her elbows from side to side, futilely seeking release. “Let me go!”

  “Not on your life,” he said, none too gently. “Not on your life.”

  The bright yellow fire truck screeched to a stop in front of the burning cabin. Five or six men moved with impressive agility to free the hose. Their figures blurred as they worked together.

  Mariah recognized Sawyer and Mitch Harris and Marvin Gold, who were all members of the volunteer fire department. She wanted to tell them to hurry, but even as the words worked their way up her throat, she knew it was too late. All was lost—her home and everything inside it. No hope remained.

  With his arm wrapped protectively around her, Christian drew her away from her cabin, which was by now fully engulfed in flames. A chill came over her as she stood by and silently watched the fire swallow up everything she owned, every possession, save the armful of clothes she’d managed to snatch.

  A breathless Dotty Livengood arrived, having raced over from her home. “Is Mariah all right?” She directed the question at Christian.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me check her.”

  “Mariah.” Before Dotty reached her, Christian placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Were you burned?”

  Mariah saw his lips move and heard the words, but it was as though he was standing on the other side of a glass wall. Nothing seemed to touch her, to penetrate her confusion and loss. The question took several minutes to register. Was she hurt? Had she been burned? She felt no pain, not physical at least. Only loss, deep and personal loss.

  “Her hands.” This comment came from Christian, and it seemed to her, even from this emotional distance, that he was angry, frustrated. “It looks like she blistered her fingers.”

  “She must have tried to put out the fire herself.” Dotty’s gentle voice soothed her.

  “I can’t believe what she just did,” Christian muttered. “I had to drag her out of the house. She was after her purse and some silly figurine I gave her. She risked her life for a forty-dollar piece of jade.” His anger spilled out of him like water hissing against a hot burner.

  “Christian.” It was Dotty again, her voice forceful. “Calm down.”

  “I can’t!” he shouted. “Do you realize she could have died in there? If I hadn’t arrived when I did, no one would’ve been able to save her. We barely got out in time.”

  “Take several deep breaths,” Dotty said. “You’ve both had a fright, but you’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Her purse and a figurine! She was willing to die trying to save them!” The rage in Christian seemed to intensify as the other men dealt with the fire. He began to pace, his steps awkward and abrupt as he attempted to manage his anger.

  Mariah was only now beginning to comprehend what had happened. She wasn’t sure how the fire had started; all she knew was that she’d lit her stove, trying to chase away the chill. It’d been weeks since she’d lit the thing, and there must have been something in the chimney, because a few minutes later the pipe started to glow. The dry cabin wall behind it caught fire and then, in almost no time, the curtains. The flames roared across the room so quickly, they’d been impossible to stop.

  “Take her over to the clinic,” Dotty instructed Christian. “I’ll tend to those burns.”

  Others were arriving now, children and adults alike. Their eyes filled with sympathy and fear.

  “Go,” Dotty told Christian.

  He guided Mariah away from the gathering crowd. She looked back only once at what had been her home.

  Dotty got there a little later. “They weren’t able to save anything,” she said sadly.

  Christian nodded. He couldn’t seem to stand still. And Mariah could barely move; she didn’t have the strength. It felt as though someone had sucked the very life from her. It was an effort just to keep her head up.

  “Mariah,” Dotty said in a gentle voice, “you’ve had quite a shock.”

  Christian paced the clinic. “She was on the floor when I found her,” he said. “If I’d arrived a minute later I might never have reached her. She came so close to dying in the fire.”

  “Christian, you’ve had a scare, too.”

  “The woman hasn’t got a brain in her head. Just how important can a purse be?” With rough, angry movements, he rubbed the back of his neck. “She shouldn’t even have been living in that cabin. The place is a firetrap! But she was so damn stubborn, insisting this was where she had to stay—”

  “Christian!”

  “She should go back to Seattle!” he exploded. “I’ll personally pay for her ticket. At
least there she won’t be dealing with fires and a bunch of women-hungry men.”

  She should be back in Seattle. The words penetrated the haze in Mariah’s mind, and a sob erupted from deep in her throat. Christian had never made a secret of how he felt about her, but the fact that he could be so cruel now, when she’d lost everything, was more than she could bear.

  “Christian O’Halloran, what a rotten thing to say!” Dotty snapped. “I think it would be best if you left. The last thing Mariah needs now is you haranguing her.”

  Mariah watched Christian stomp out of the health clinic.

  Leaning her head against the wall, she sighed and closed her eyes. Tears were close to the surface, but she held them at bay, concentrating, instead, on the pain in her hands. They’d started to throb, and she was grateful when Dotty returned.

  Soon Dotty had taken care of her burns and bandaged her hands. Shortly after that, Abbey and Lanni O’Halloran came by with Karen Caldwell and Bethany Harris to check on her.

  “Are you okay?” Abbey asked, sitting next to Mariah and placing an arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m fine,” Mariah assured her friends. But she wasn’t. The sense of devastation hit her again, bringing fresh tears. Everything she’d worked for in the past year was lost. The man she secretly loved was furious with her. Now her hands were burned and bandaged and she was unable to work. She had no home, no place to live.

  “If I was smart, I’d do what Christian said,” she mumbled, forcing herself to smile.

  “What did Christian say?” Bethany asked, glancing at Dotty.

  “He suggested she return to Seattle,” the nurse answered, her lips pinched disapprovingly. “Someone needs to have a talk with that young man.”

  “He said what?” Lanni demanded, outraged.

  “How dare he!” This came from Karen.

  The atmosphere in the room crackled with indignation.

  “Just a moment,” Abbey said, stroking Mariah’s back. “Let’s not be so quick to condemn him. I had a chance to talk to him just now, and you know what? I’ve never seen Christian so upset.”

  With me, Mariah added silently.

  “He’s had the scare of a lifetime. Think about it. Christian almost lost Mariah, and he couldn’t handle that.”

  “Then why would he say something so terrible to her, especially now?” Lanni asked, her eyes flashing at the insult.

  “In my experience, a man will express what he fears most, rather than let it sneak up on him. Women do the same thing, but not as often.”

  “You’re making excuses for him,” Bethany said.

  “No,” Abbey insisted. “I think he’ll be back to apologize to Mariah the minute he realizes what he said. Christian no more wants Mariah to move back to Seattle than he wants to live there himself.”

  “And if he doesn’t apologize, then I know a number of women who’ll be more than happy to assist him in seeing his mistake,” Karen said meaningfully.

  Dotty chuckled. “You know, I almost feel sorry for that boy.”

  “Now listen, Mariah, we’ve got this all figured out,” Abbey assured her, again with gentle firmness.

  “Right.” Karen stood in the center of the room, arms akimbo. “You’re going to need someplace to live until you rebuild. I’m sure that with all the new construction in town, you could find someone to do it quickly.”

  “Rebuild. Yes. I—I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she whispered, grateful for her friends. Her mind remained confused, her confidence in the future badly shaken.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” Karen continued. “You’re going to come and live with Matt and me at the lodge.”

  “The lodge.” Mariah knew she must sound like an echo, but making decisions, even simple ones, was beyond her.

  “We’re going to take care of everything,” Abbey promised. Somehow Mariah doubted that anyone could help her repair the mess she’d made of her life. It was too late for that.

  “ARE YOU GOING to the Labor Day community dance?” Ben asked Christian when he arrived for breakfast a couple of days after the fire.

  “The dance?” Hard Luck routinely celebrated Labor Day with a festive get-together. Because of all the problems at the office and the chaos following the fire, Christian hadn’t given the matter more than a fleeting thought. “I guess,” he said with little enthusiasm. He attended every Labor Day dance and didn’t expect this year to be any different.

  “Will you be taking Mariah?”

  Christian noticed that Ben had saved that for the punch line. At the sound of Mariah’s name, it was all Christian could do to keep from clenching his fists.

  Every time he remembered the fire, he became so angry he couldn’t think straight. The woman had nearly lost her life! A chill ran down his spine again at the realization. He averted his gaze, not wanting Ben to know how intensely all this had affected him.

  “Uh, how’s she doing?” Christian cut the sourdough hotcakes with his fork.

  “I hear she’s staying at the lodge.”

  Christian nodded; he’d already learned that much.

  “With her hands all bandaged up, she can’t work. She felt real bad about that,” Ben said, “but I’ve been running this café on my own close to twenty years now. I told her I could manage for however long it takes her hands to heal.”

  “Was she badly burned?”

  “Nah. Dotty seems to think she’ll be good as new in a week or so.”

  Christian was relieved to hear it.

  “I understand you single-handedly riled every woman in town.” Ben chuckled as he walked to the other end of the counter, where Duke and Ralph were finishing breakfast, and refreshed their coffee.

  “So it seems,” Christian muttered. He wasn’t proud of his outburst, but he’d been so furious with Mariah that he couldn’t have suppressed the words if he’d tried. At the time, he’d meant every one. He’d never been more frightened in his life. Only last night, he’d awakened in a cold sweat, trembling. He’d dreamed about the fire, that he’d gone into the house and hadn’t been able to find her. For a long time after he woke, his heart continued to race. There was no point in trying to sleep again, so before dawn, he’d dressed and gone to the burned-out cabin. He’d stood there until the sun rose, giving incoherent thanks that Mariah had been spared. “She’s safe.” He’d repeated it over and over—but couldn’t quite forget that she’d almost died.

  “What are you going to do now?” Ben asked.

  “What can I do? Apologize, I guess,” Christian muttered. He glanced over at the two pilots, feeling like a fool. As it was, his own brother had no use for him. Sawyer had yet to forgive him for losing their secretary, and the situation hadn’t improved, since he hadn’t immediately hired another. Now, to make everything even worse, he seemed to be blaming Christian for the danger to Mariah, for letting her stay in the cabin. Letting her stay!

  “Good.” Ben sighed as though the issue of Christian’s apology had been weighing heavily on his mind.

  After paying his tab, Christian hurried to the office. Sawyer was busy on the phone and left him to deal with the pilots and their assignments for the day. The usual dissatisfaction broke out, but he dealt with it, if rather more ruthlessly than normal.

  During a midmorning lull, Christian slipped out and walked over to the lodge to see Mariah. On the way, he formulated what he wanted to say. He was so intent on putting his apology together that he didn’t notice she was sitting on the front-porch swing.

  “Karen and Matt are gone for the morning,” she announced as he began to climb the porch steps.

  Christian paused, one foot on the ground and the other on the first stair. His gaze was immediately drawn to the bandages on her hands and then to the sadness in her eyes. The need to comfort her was strong, but he knew she didn’t want anything to do with him now. Personally he didn’t blame her.

  Mariah’s hair was tied back, away from her face, and she wore a simple light green summer dress that
suited her perfectly. He didn’t recognize it and wondered if one of the woman in town had lent it to her. No matter; she’d never looked lovelier.

  “I didn’t come to see Karen or Matt,” he said, finishing the climb.

  It was unseasonably warm for late August, despite some cool days the week before. The swing, a recent addition to the lodge, swayed gently in the breeze. He could hear birdsong in the distance. The sun splashed over her shoulders, glinting off her red hair, adding an aura of cheerfulness he knew was false.

  He found it difficult to pull his gaze from hers. Her expression was blank, neither welcoming nor unwelcoming.

  “I came to apologize for what I said,” he blurted. He might as well deal with the unpleasantness right away. “I didn’t mean it. The last thing I want you to do is leave Alaska.”

  “But you wouldn’t object if I found my way out of Hard Luck.” Her voice was as dispassionate as her eyes.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to leave Hard Luck.” She was making this difficult, but then, he suspected he deserved it.

  “Here.” He dug inside his pocket and fished out her jade bear. It had taken no small effort to find the figurine in the charred rubble, and unfortunately he’d been unable to recover her purse. He’d spent hours yesterday morning, once the sun had risen, sifting through the ashes and debris.

  Mariah’s eyes lit up. “You found my bear!” It was the first emotion she’d shown. Her lower lip trembled, and he realized she was struggling to hold back tears. She gripped the figurine tightly. “Thank you, Christian.”

  He shrugged, making light of the accomplishment. “It was nothing.”

  Her beautiful brown eyes held his. Annoyed, Christian looked away. Not because he didn’t find her attractive—he did, more so each time he saw her—but because she reminded him of what he’d been trying to forget ever since he’d kissed her. He didn’t want to see her eyes like this, wide and beguiling. He couldn’t resist their luminous beauty or her enticing mouth or soft, pale skin. If he looked at her, he’d want to kiss her again.